Writing Tips...

Coloring Outside The Lines ©
by Linda Broday

From early childhood, we're told to be neat and tidy - keep your crayons inside the picture. We can't become individuals without our own way of viewing things, and end up as one of a mindless mass. Paint by number is another method of stifling our creativity. Unfortunately, because of this brainwashing we endured as children, coloring "outside" the lines is something we must to train ourselves to do.

If you will, for a moment think of your writing as a painting. Instead of black and white useless, vague, uninteresting words, consider ones that add depth and texture, and color. Words that tell stories. Words that give specific detail and add drama.

Showing is messy with bold, creative strokes. Things don't fit neatly within the lines. Don't know about you, but perfection bores me to tears. I find myself drawn to work that allows feeling, mystery, daring . . . passages to die for. Showing must come from our imaginations and our experiences.

I have a few books in my guides to better writing arsenal. Show, Don't Tell by William Noble, Write Tight by William Brohaugh, and my personal Bible - Word Painting by Rebecca McClanahan. This paragraph is from Word Painting:

"Unlike visual artists, we have no brushes, no clay, no glazes, no many-colored palette to aid us in describing our world. And unlike performing artists, we have no keyboard, no trombone, no toe shoes, tutu, no midair leap with which to stun our audience and ourselves. What we have is the alphabet, that small but loyal band of vowels and consonants."

Okay . . . so vowels and consonants are all we have to work with. Still, we can evoke powerful images when used creatively. The end product is uniquely ours. It's something that comes from our own inner consciousness and how we interpret the things we look at. We never see things in exactly the same way another does. That's a given.

Take a county fair for instance -- after seeing everything there, one person may only remember the food, another the exhibits or the animals or games or rides. One thing will linger longer in each of our memory banks because of what's important to us. To remember and describe all of the images, inserting emotion and drama that makes everyone else 'see' through their eyes is something to treasure.

Most of the time, we can recall with perfect clarity a favorite scene in a book, or a character we related heart and soul to, even though we can't remember every single detail in the novel. A good reason for this is "We don't remember days . . . we remember moments."

Realizing this was a powerful eye-opener for me. It's true we delegate to memory how scared we were when our parents left us on the first day of school and were positive they'd never come back and we'd never see home again. That terrible feeling of abandonment and loss. Our brains record a child's first steps, first words. And the nights we might've sat up with a sick loved one not sure what the dawn would bring. But --- can you remember the day, month or year? Probably not, because the part that tore at our emotions was the moment, not the day.

What becomes indelibly engraved are the scenes. If we are real fortunate, we can implant these into a reader's mind's eye. But, we must make them gripping. We must make our writing sparkle long enough to hold their interest so they'll unpack their bags, get comfortable, and stay for the entire vacation. Our job is to make the reader become emotionally involved and less like a tourist. That explains why some readers snatch up continuing series books. It's because they've become part of that family and want to find out what problems they encounter next.

A sure fire way to kidnap a reader and trick them into investing so much of themselves (besides holding a gun to their heads, which I don't recommend) is by using words that create images. Show, don't tell. Color outside the lines. Sling mud, splash ketchup in their faces - dare them to stop reading!! Draw pictures with action verbs, instead of dull, lifeless ones that are quickly forgotten, if even read. Expand your vision to include every detail in the picture, not only what's obvious in front of you, but what's at the sides, above and below. Apply broad, messy strokes with your painter's brush.

Showing applies concrete detail - not vague references. Methods used to employ showing are unlimited. Description, emotion, dialogue, characterization, etc. overlap each other. Anything that shows is thrusting the reader directly into the world you create.

I'm not sure I can teach this. The way I write comes from my heart. I've learned different techniques along the way that helped me discover better ways to write. I'm still learning. Louis L'Amour remarked after finishing his 100th manuscript that he thought he was beginning to understand a little about this craft of writing. I certainly relate to that. I only hope to absorb a portion during my lifetime.

A huge killer of reader interest is the overuse of WAS - WERE -FORMS Of TO BE such as ARE, IS, BEEN, BEING. You can't eliminate every one, and a few are completely necessary. But, I ask you to take a critical look at each. Usually you'll find you have a passive sentence (which are a lot easier to write than having to exert brain power. Passive is lazy.) Ask yourself if you might substitute an active verb instead.

Compare these:

She was happy. (What does that tell us? Anything visual there?)
The news aroused a swarm of goose bumps.

The dog was wagging his tail.
The St. Bernard wagged his tail, the huge tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

The house was engulfed in flames by the time the firemen arrived.
Intense heat prevented firemen from entering the engulfed (or flaming?) house.

The articles were upsetting to say the least.
The articles upset Mrs. Gamble. (This is not passive, but it tells, not show.)

How About:

Mrs. Gamble's hand trembled and went slack releasing the newspaper. The slanderous articles settled upon the floor along with the dust mites and cat fur.
Or -- An icy chill raced through Mrs. Gamble at the slanderous lies printed in the articles.

PASSIVE SENTENCES

In these sentences, the object of the action becomes the subject of the verb even though the object doesn't actively do anything. Sounds confusing, doesn't it?

(passive) It is assumed the killer would be tall and muscular.
(active) The killer probably stood between six feet two inches to six-four with a muscular build.

Killer is the subject, not the assumption.

(passive) Tom Selleck and George Clooney were surrounded by three husky bodyguards.
(active) Three husky bodyguards surrounded Tom Selleck and George Clooney.

Bodyguards are the subject, not Tom and George.

(passive) The ship was rocked by gigantic waves.
(active) Gigantic waves rocked the ship.

In active voice, the subject of the sentence is whatever/whoever doing the action. It takes practice to spot passive sentences. I'm still working on my kidnap methods. In fact, with each sentence, page, or chapter, I'm striving to perfect my technique so a kidnapee will not want to escape and have me thrown into the pokey.

Some Inconspicuous words that should ring alarm bells . . . .

Felt/Feel
Hear/Heard
Watch/Notice/Observe
Taste
See/Saw
Smell

These are "hidden" telling words in sheep's clothing. They don't do anything but sit there. They supply no visual images.

Compare these for example ---

Ann felt the trickle of sweat down her back.
Sweat trickled down Ann's back creating a pool of wetness at her waist.

Action draws pictures.

Sam heard footsteps.
The soft pad of footsteps came from behind. (Or < Boots scuffed the floor. Sam whirled.>)

Michael Tate watched a shadowy figure steal from the barn.
A shadowy figure stole from the barn into Michael Tate's line of vision.

The taste of tangerines lingered on his tongue.
Tangerines lingered on his tongue like a lover's kiss.

Brenda saw how devastating rejection could be.
Rejection destroys a person's hopes and dreams if they let it.

The child saw the ice cream truck down the street.
The child hopped up and down when the ice cream truck turned onto the street.

Ward Alexander could smell the heavy perfume. Or (Ward Alexander smelled the heavy perfume.)
The cloying perfume swam up Ward Alexander's nose, filling him with deadly ideas.

Choose words that further the story you're attempting to tell

Consider this sentence ---

Amanda walked across the room.
Did she stroll, sashay, waltz, tiptoe, dance, stomp, amble, meander, parade, march, pad?
Or even limp? Slouch? Slink?

Each action verb brings a different picture to mind. Whatever you do, know what picture you want to portray.

Bridget Harlow sat down.
(Dropped onto the sofa) (Collapsed, fell, scooted)
How did she sit and what do you want to show?

Once you answer the basic questions, you can take your paints and begin to add color, depth, and texture. Don't overlook the shadows that depend on the way the light falls on things.

Bridget Harlow perched her mini-skirted bottom on the arm of the leather sofa, dangling the stiletto heel from one toe. Mona gritted her teeth. She'd take great delight in slapping the smirk off those Anna Nicole lips. Whatever Tom saw in the woman-stealer escaped her.

Bridget is a flirt. She's also self-assured and bold. The leather sofa provides a clue as to circumstances or surrounding, just as plush, worn, drab, designer - or a flowery, plaid, etc. - or any color, but only if it pertains to atmosphere or characterization. There are numerous directions a writer can go and each tells a different story.

What if we do this . . . .

Bridget Harlow bit her lip and poised stiffly on the garish sofa. The girl didn't belong here. Mona's stomach churned. Duty wouldn't allow her to stand idle and watch. She'd save the girl from the game the others had planned or die trying.

The action verbs we've chosen completely change the scene into something sinister and maybe dangerous.

Ways to Show :

* Emotion - (Don't TELL readers how your characters feel; SHOW by expression or their actions. If a character is angry, maybe they'd tap their foot, throw or slam things, glare, pout, run away, narrow their eyes, etc.) One mistake writers make is using both; they tell then follow with showing. Learn to omit the telling part and get right into sketching a picture.

* Which leads us to directly into Action-Interaction - Show your H/H doing things that progress the story or show something about their make-up. Action-Interaction never fails to add drama and excitement. But don't confuse drama with melodrama which is not creative. One exception to this rule is if it's part of the character's mannerisms. Then, even melodrama has a purpose.

* Dialogue -- It's an excellent, vital method to employ when showing. I only caution the importance of having the exchange progress the story. If it's only there to fill the page or have your characters say something to break up narrative, leave it out. Dialogue is an important way to include little clues that give greater insight about the people on the page.

Here's a passage from "The Cowboy Who Came Calling." The scene is in Glory Day's point of view. She's brought Luke McClain home to patch him up after shooting him.

Patience chattered like a magpie from the alcove where they'd taken McClain. Hope glanced up hopefully from her task of making biscuits. Glory's couldn't ignore the uncomfortable lurch in her chest. They could blame her for a bare table.

"Did you . . .?" The light from Hope's face vanished.

"Nope. Nothing. Guess it'll be whatever we can scrounge from the garden or root cellar." She hung her serviceable hat on a peg beside the door. "Lord knows there's pitiful left. This heat's burned up everything. Including our will. Mama's right. Maybe there's no use."

"Don't say that, Glory." Hope wiped the flour on her apron and gave her sister a hug. "We'll manage. We've had hard times before and lived through them."

Glory envied her sister's eternal optimism. Their parents couldn't have bestowed a more appropriate name. Unlike hers. Glorious? Far from it. The Greek name, Hydra, would fit better. The name of a dragon killed by Hercules.

"Besides, what choice do we have?" Hope added softly.

"None, I suppose." She took a ragged breath. It'd been a long, disappointing day all around. "Rest for a bit. Sit down and I'll see what I can find."

Too tired to resist, she let Hope push her into a chair. "Mama still lying down?"

"No, in fact, Aunt Dorothy stopped by. The two of them are in the bedroom talking."

"Wonder what about?"

Hope disappeared out the door without answering. Whatever it was, she prayed it brought Mama out of her doldrums. Busy sorting through the list of possibilities, she overheard Patience from the next room.

"My sister didn't mean to shoot you, Mr. McClain. She's truly a nice person. Even when she yells at me sometimes, I still love 'er."

"I'm sure you do," Luke said.

"Doesn't it hurt something awful to get shot?"

"All in a day's work when you're a lawman, little 'un."

A lawman, huh? He'd not so much as breathed a word of this to her and he had ample opportunity. Glory smelled a rat.

"My name's Patience. How many times have you been shot?"

"Reckon if'n you count arrows and bullets both, might near ten or twenty times."

Glory shamelessly listened. You could learn a lot about a man by not so much what he said, but how he said it. Not that she cared a piddly poo about unearthing personal details. Other than making sure he wasn't the sort to kill them all in their beds, that is.

The braggart truly didn't suffer from shyness or exaggeration. What a feeble attempt to glorify himself in a little girl's eyes. Well, that sure fit what she knew of him so far. Plus, his drawling slang spoke of rustic living. Most likely, he didn't even know his letters.

"Where'd your sister go?" he asked.

"Which one?"

"The crack shot. Miss Glory."

Evidently, neither had heard her come in. She should put a stop to his meddling. Still, she wanted to eavesdrop a little while longer. Something strange about the way her heart seemed to stop when he spoke her name.

"She went to find us some supper. Glory takes care of us since our papa got put in prison. She can shoot real good."

"I've gotten a taste of her shootin' skills." The tone McClain used rivaled the dry, Texas wind.

The nerve of him! She hadn't shot him on purpose . . . yet.

"My sister can kill anything if she wants. That's why you're not dead, mister."

This dialogue shows and informs. It shows Glory's emotional entanglement with Luke even though she's fighting it every step of the way. It shows how tired she is of being the one to take care of the family. It lets the reader see the chatterbox Patience is and giving us insight into Luke's character and how he wants to impress.

* Atmosphere - Another example from "The Cowboy Who Came Calling."

Often the elders spoke in hushed whispers about a long, painful night of the soul. How the wind visited, carrying problems thick as a Biblical plague. It's also said that impatience dries the blood sooner than age or sorrow.

Surely this must be such a time.

In twenty years, Glory Marie Day had come to know more about injustice and patience than most women twice her age. She hadn't asked for any breaks, only a fair shake, and fate hadn't seen fit to deliver even a sliver of that.

Showing can suggest an idea or feeling that lives beneath the story line, something thematic threading through the story. Like here it's the wind. By opening this book in this manner, I was able to instill her fear of the wind. Each time it blows, she knows trouble is coming. All through the book trouble and wind are synonymous.

Then, here is another example, the opening of the one I'm currently working on --

When a man loses his soul, he has little choice except to try and find it again. Unless he wants to stay lost. An old Chinese proverb claims the journey of a thousand miles begins with a first step. Lord knows he'd found plenty of reasons of one kind or another to avoid taking that first one.

Brodie straightened in the saddle at the edge of town. He squinted into the noonday sun and let his gaze drift to the wooden sign declaring the name as Redemption, then to the row of establishments lining the main street.

White egrets flew overhead. In the distance, giant cypress stood in silence. Spanish moss draping them added ghostly tears. They cried in silent harmony - an army of unheard voices in the face of more death and destruction than he dared number.

He'd come home.

They say to become whole, a person must return to the beginning, to the place where your soul was born.

Redemption?

A one in a million chance of that.

He sighed. He'd had worse odds he reckoned. Light knee pressure moved the big appaloosa forward. The town had doubled in his absence. That meant a lot of new folks. Despite that, he doubted old acquaintances would recognize him. Eight years had a way of changing a man. War could do things to make you unrecognizable . . . even to yourself. The musketball, compliments of a Yankee soldier, had only shredded his leg. Other scars lay deep inside never to see the light of day.

Those he'd nurture until his dying breath.

Delicious smells drifted past his nose. They originated from an untidy little restaurant that according to his recollection hadn't sat there before. Rumbles in his belly reminded he'd not eaten in a while.

In response to an unspoken command, Smokey turned and stopped at the hitching post in front of Ollie's Café.

From a glance through the window, he observed wall to wall patrons. The steamer tied at the pier probably accounted for a good many.

Men lounging in front of the barber shop openly stared when Brodie climbed from the horse and looped the reins over the wooden post. He didn't expect anything different. It followed true to course each time he arrived in a town. Maybe it was the devil's scorn that shadowed him or the deadly hiss of rattles from his hat that created such aversion. Or perhaps they merely saw the danger that always shared his saddle. He adjusted the thin rawhide strip around his thigh that kept the holster secure and let his hand rest for a second on the polished walnut grip of his Army issue Navy Colt.

The gawkers gasped when he nodded toward them, but they didn't turn politely away. They never did.

Can you visualize this man, the surrounding scenery, his angst? And as Errol Flynn once said, "It's not what they say about you, it's what they whisper." That has far greater impact than absolutes. This sets up the book's atmosphere. The town of Redemption symbolizes every hope and dream both he and the heroine have. Although both these examples relay atmosphere through narrative, please don't limited it to that. Atmosphere can come through dialogue, description, emotion, or action. The methods are endless.

* Description -- Not simply how something looks, but visual detail rooted in smell, taste, feel, and even hearing.

Here's another passage from "The Cowboy Who Came Calling."

From a distance there was something majestic about the stone house where she came into the world. A body couldn't see the missing porch step, the hole in the roof, or the tear in the screen door. This far away the tangle of wild honeysuckle covering the entire east side gave it stature worthy of a castle. Her grandfather constructed the dwelling half a century ago from natural limestone he quarried and hauled down from the mountain. The durable structure had withstood Texas twisters, drought and spring floods. She tried to wet her dry mouth but nothing came - not enough moisture for spit. The God-forsaken heat had sucked the life from the land. Nothing thrived but tumbleweeds, wild honeysuckle and broken dreams.

* Characterization - Show more about your characters than simply how they look.

This is from "The Cowboy Who Came Calling" --

Although a tad on the slim side for his taste, he admired the way she filled out those britches. His gaze traveled upward to her heaving chest. Yep, her curves were certainly in all the right places . . . and then some.

By some quirk of fate, her hair chose that particular moment to spill from beneath the floppy hat. He could only hold his breath at the spectacle and watch the glimmering strands slip one by one from their hiding place. They teased, they dallied, taunting him in a slow, sensuous dance until the golden mass caressed her back and shoulders.

Have mercy! For a moment, he was afraid the thick lump he'd swallowed had been his own tongue.

Hopefully, the reader can feel what Luke does and provide a clear indication of what he's thinking, in addition to Glory's appearance. Showing allows our minds/ imagination to wander (sometimes play) and it stretches the boundaries. You never know what you're going to find. And that's exciting to me.

The Eye of Imagination and The Eye of Memory have to marry to be able to properly SHOW. In Word Painting Rebecca McClanahan stresses, "It's not just the marriage ceremony linking the two things; it's the child born from the union."

You're combining your own experiences of what you know, with fancy. And you're creating something original, fresh, and unique. The world, even worlds in other galaxies, are open playgrounds.

Another way of putting it is this -- "When you look into a mirror you do not see your reflection - your reflection sees you."

Showing vitalizes a work, instilling a sense of being there, tasting, feeling, seeing, hearing what's on the written page.

Metaphors and Similes are last on my list. Mainly because I love using them. Simile employs the words 'like' or 'as.'

This example is from "The Cowboy Who Came Calling."

Her breasts cozied up to his chest like a saloon girl hoping to make a bit of change.

Metaphors designate one object that is used to suggest another. It symbolizes something totally different from the concrete thing. Metaphors are much harder, but bring a depth to writing that similes lack.

The pain became a roaring beast intent on destroying the bit of sanity to which he clung.

He really didn't have a beast inside him, we know that. But the comparison shows the depth of his anguish in a more powerful way. It paints a picture.

Here's an excellent method to make richer, fresher metaphors and similes. Do what's called "free association lists." Write down every word you can think of that might describe what you're wanting. As you continue, you'll find one image will lead to another and your thinking will expand. Take our kidnapping for instance. You may write rope, car, food, mask, cliff, duct tape, fool-proof plan, a clock, minutes, ransom, phone - which may lead to cell phone, cell charger, electricity, satellite, global positioning, disposal of evidence (even a body should things go wrong.) What weapon would you kill your victim with? How much blood? Or even distinctive smells the hostage might remember and relay to police.

Symbols are a great way to say something without really saying it. To illustrate, take this example from my Redemption story.

The gentle touch spoke of remembrance and insatiable desire.

A crack in the floor came under intense scrutiny.

How could so much dirt get into such tiny places? It would take a good scrubbing to get it clean.

That was in Laurel James's POV. It symbolizes how she views herself. She may see a small amount in the crack on the floor, but inside it's piled so high she can't see over. She realizes she may not ever scale the mountain and redeem herself and it scares the piss out of her (excuse my language.)

In "Knight on The Texas Plains" I used Annie's grave and the cattle brand as symbols of the hero and heroine. Each time the scene showed Duel up on that little hill beside the grave, the reader knew what ran through his head. The same with the brand.

Characters reveal their inner selves by things they wear, what's in their pockets, their houses, offices, cars, suitcases, their grocery carts . . . and their dreams.

Pack a suitcase for them and see what they bring, And what would they use for luggage - a duffel bag, old accordion case, a leather valise with gold monogram? What would be their favorite get-away spot? Let them throw a garage sale and see what they throw away and better yet how they squirm when strangers and neighbors rifle through their stuff, what's in their refrigerators? Their closets? Their bathrooms? What would they most like to get rid of and what they'd hold onto until their dying breath?

These are but a tip of the iceberg of things that kidnap and reader and make them part of your family.

As a former member of our writing group, Rose Anderson summed it up this way in a song she wrote, "I'm writing life one line at a time until my story crosses with yours." We haven't created something memorable unless we have touched the reader and provided a visual picture with which to relate.

Get out your paints, set up your easel, and apply bold strokes. Write something that denies forgetting. If you do happen to kidnap a reader and they complain, send them to my address. I'm trying to establish a colony for kidnapees. However, I suspect you won't want to send any referrals my way. The readers I know complain very seldom.

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